


Recovery of the Bluebird

by quinship



Category: Tegan and Sara (Band)
Genre: F/F, Grief/Mourning, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 10:51:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13165386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinship/pseuds/quinship
Summary: After Emy's sudden death, her sister and girlfriend find solace in each other.





	Recovery of the Bluebird

Grief. A feeling that would follow Tegan forever from now on, it seemed.      

This funeral was dragging forever when all she wanted to do was curl up in a private corner and scream and cry. But instead, she had to hold it in, which led her to simply shut down and sit like a stone statue. But statues didn’t have emotions that made them feel as though they were trapped in the deep dark abyss of the sea, where no diver would dare venture…     

She bit her lip to bring herself back to reality. She couldn’t afford to get lost in her feelings at this time and place. She sat stiffly on the wooden bench in the church, but the saltwater of her tears traced paths down her cheeks. Tegan was trying to hold herself together for the sake of everyone else, but she was spilling out and leaking through. Nobody, not even her, could stopper this. They would try, but to no avail. Besides, she wanted to deal with her feelings in private, so she might as well not draw attention to them.

A handkerchief dabbed at her cheek and mopped up the tears on one side of her cheek. She turned her head, ignoring the meaningless words of the poor priest who was forced to try to make this seem not as horrible… The poor stranger had to attempt to comfort all of them in their grief and give them closure…

Sara grimaced once they made eye contact. She too was crying but managed to keep herself looking neater and more put together than Tegan did. Sara just put the people she was close with back in order when they were in disarray. She first did that with Emy, and now her dead girlfriend's little sister. Perhaps it was Sara’s way of coping… Tegan certainly wasn't going to judge anyone else's coping mechanisms. Her own would have been to make morbid and in-poor-taste jokes to Emy the whole time, but she couldn't very well do that at Emy's own funeral. Besides, she didn’t have the heart to do so, for the brightest ray sunshine was stolen from Tegan’s world (among others, but she figured she was allowed to think mainly of herself at this time), never to be returned.

If they had been able, they would have left the church. This funeral was only making things worse. But they had to let other people feel better, even if all they, themselves, wanted to do was cry. Others were there to support them, and pay their respects to Emy.

Tegan tried to hold in the sob that was about to escape her lips but had to muffle it into her hands. Sara took her free hand, and Tegan realized how stiffly Sara was sitting. Her facial expression was one of stone. Sara was desperately trying to hold it in too but was looking after Tegan to distract herself from the devastation.

The service seemed to go on forever, but Tegan wanted out. Sara sensed this, and quickly guided her outside and to her car as soon as it was over. She got them out of the parking lot and to the cemetery before anyone else, which kept them from having to face unwanted hugs and condolences.

“Do you want to go get doughnuts after this?” Sara offered quietly. “You know the place near mine and E—I mean… my apartment.” Sara visibly swallowed at the near slip.

“I know where you’re talking about,” Tegan replied, my voice sounding echoey to her own ears. “Lots of ends of drunken nights there…” She smiled wistfully, tears still venturing out of her eyes.

“Yeah… I would come to retrieve you guys… Or you’d come get us…” Her smile now-forced smile trembled, and while she didn’t make a sound, tears escaped down her cheeks. She covered her mouth with her hand and began to sob into it.

“She was the heart of the group,” Tegan whispered. She attempted to wipe her tears away but accidentally smeared them across her face. She reached for Sara, needing the comfort of another person, and they hugged. “She… She said she’d always be with us.” The two of them cried into each other.

Tegan wasn’t sure what she’d have done if Emy’s death had been more sudden than it was. (Her older sister’s death was going to be sudden no matter what, except if they were both old and gray.) She’d gotten to cry at Emy’s bedside and hold her hand, pleading at the doctor to do everything he could do to save her sister. Emy had been able to give Tegan words to remember forever, in case she didn’t make it see the sunrise. Sara had been able to marry Emy while she lay there in the ICU so that Sara would be able to make all of the important choices for her if Emy was unable to. Everyone had supported the two of them getting married, but they’d never wanted or imagined it going like this. Nobody had.

Sara had been with Emy for six years only for some person who’d used their phone while driving to wreck everything. Emy was loved by everyone; she and Tegan were close and had a great relationship. Emy had oodles of friends, and was forging a career with art; her passion. If any person could ever be considered perfect, it was Emy. But at twenty-seven, her life was cut short.

It felt nice to cry it out after holding it in. Once the storm had calmed enough, and other people started arriving, Sara leaned over and opened the glove box to pull out an entire box of Kleenex. She and Tegan cleaned themselves up and headed over to where Emy would be laid to rest. It was a lovely little sunny spot near a tree, along with a great view. After all, Emy would be getting visitors.

Sara had been left with the decision of how Emy would be buried, and she enlisted Tegan to help. The two of them had agreed that Emy loved art so much that she should be buried in the overalls she wore to paint in, with her favorite T-shirt (a large plain white one that all of her friends and loved ones had put their names and doodles on with sharpie, with Sara and Tegan making the most contributions to it). In Emy’s hands were her favorite art supplies, which Emy had labeled and given names to back when she first recieved all of them. She claimed that each paintbrush had its own personality, which was something she had begun back when she’d first started creating art, and this had amused Tegan and this was a way for her to help by getting the correct brush, rather than having to listen to some long description or find a number on the handle.

Tegan hoped that Emy would not follow the path of others by only getting flowers once she died, but not often afterwards. She loved flowers (as well as cats) and it was simply an affectionate gesture for friends and loved ones to give Emy flowers. But, Tegan promised herself that she would never let Emy’s grave become messy or be unadorned with flowers. Sara would likely aid her in that lifelong mission.

Once the burial was over, everyone was invited back to the Storeys’ house. Sara asked Tegan if she still wanted to go get doughnuts, to which the younger woman nodded. They needed some space, and they’d both received enough condolences to last a lifetime. None of those words would do anything.

When Tegan first got the news that Emy had died in the night (but also that it had been painless), she couldn’t believe it. In the hospital, as she and Sara had sat by Emy’s bedside while their mutual loved one rest, Sara had explained that it was like a part in this book she’d read called Disturbances in the Field by Lynne Sharon Schwartz, where a main character (named Lydia) had lost two of her four children and there was part that talked about how ‘other people’s children die; not our own’, and Tegan felt that deep enough to cry, because it was true. Other people lost their sister. And like Lydia said, it was very sad and they might even shed a tear, but that was other people. They’d never thought that they’d be the ones faced with this grief.

But here they were, over a week later. Their world had been ripped out from underneath them, and they’d struggled to get their balance back. While they swayed, Sara and Tegan ate doughnuts with a hollow look in their eyes. They were getting crumbs on themselves, which Sara cleaned up once it was time for them to head back.

“Would you like to stay at my place?” Sara asked hoarsely. She cleared her throat. “I’d rather not be alone… I know I have Like Like, Holiday, and Mickey… But still…”

“I know,” Tegan assured her. “Can we just swing by my place and get my necessities?”

“Of course.” And so they went to Tegan’s apartment together to retrieve some clothing and toiletries for her.

Inside, Tegan’s girlfriend Lindsey sat on the couch, elbows propped up on her knees, her hands holding her heavy-looking head.

“There you are.” Lindsey sighed. “Tegan, I texted you a bunch of times… I mean I saw you two together, but I needed to make sure that you were ok.”

“I had my phone off. Um… I’m going to stay with Sara for a while.” Tegan informed Lindsey softly, watching her girlfriend’s face undergo a mixture of falling, but at the same time, relief. She understood. If Tegan had a girlfriend who’d just lost her sister, she’d both want to be able to comfort her partner, but also not know what to do. She and Lindsey had been together for a little over a year, though Tegan wasn’t sure what their future would look like together. “I… If I need to talk about anything, I’ll call you.” She promised as an afterthought.

“Ok…” Lindsey let out a breath, and Tegan wasn’t sure what emotion was behind it. She didn’t wonder for too long because Sara guided her into the bedroom. Tegan grabbed some clothes to change into and took off the clothes she’d worn to the funeral. Leaving the bathroom, she took her toiletries (at least, the ones that she didn’t share with Lindsey) and dumped them into her duffle bag. Sara had retrieved Tegan’s charger and guessed that she’d want her laptop, so that was also packed (inside its bag). The two of them worked as a unit, making sure that Tegan had everything that she needed, including the plush giraffe that had been Tegan’s birthday gift from Emy; as in the day she was born. Emy had been two years old when she picked it out and named it ‘Gappy’, and Gappy had held her name all throughout Tegan’s twenty-five years of life and stayed in good condition (especially since Tegan knew how to sew).

When they got to the apartment, Tegan’s first move was to place Gappy next to Emy’s stuffed black spotted pig Oinkers (picked out and named by their parents). Oinkers had been put on the bookshelf where Sara and Emy kept their photos. Oinkers had gone to the hospital with Emy but came home when she did not. Sara had apparently seen fit to place Oinkers behind a picture of Tegan and Emy together as children.

“Do you have one?” Tegan asked, staring sadly at the stuffed animals.

“Yeah, but I keep it in the closet,” Sara answered, gathering clothing. “I… I wouldn’t feel right about putting him with Oinkers and Gappy.” She was avoiding eye contact with Tegan, so that was left alone. “Um… There are all sorts of stuff in the kitchen from people sending food… Help yourself. Not that you need me to tell you that, since uh… you used to come over all the time… I… never mind.” Sara sighed and went into the bathroom to change. Tegan exited the bedroom once she placed her duffle bag next to the closet, and went into the living room.

The apartment only had one bedroom and one bathroom, so Tegan was going to be sleeping in the master bedroom. Sara had assured her that it was ok when they were in the car, since she didn’t want Tegan to have to sleep on the pull-out couch which was only something that had happened when Tegan slept over, and Emy slept on the pullout couch too. Emy loved sleepovers, and often Sara would join them for a little while, but then return to the bed in the actual bedroom, since she appreciated having it to herself occasionally.

Tegan opened the door to the balcony, and stood there, looking out at the city of Montreal below and above her. The world was going on around her and Sara… Continuing as though Emy was not gone forever. The world shouldn’t have been able to function without such an integral part of Tegan’s world. But then she remembered that everything else would go on and on, with or without anyone. The next day Tegan would have to return to work, mixing drinks for other people, a smile plastered on her face, pretending to care about what anyone else blabbered on about at the hotel bar where she worked. Usually, she liked to talk to the people there, but Tegan had become extremely withdrawn when Emy’s accident occurred, and even more so when Emy died… How was the accident only a little over a week previously? As she tried to comprehend this, Tegan braced herself against the railing of the balcony.

“Do you need anything?” Sara’s voice sounded concerned as she poked her head out to the balcony. Tegan appreciated Sara’s lack of asking if she was ok. Of course, Tegan wasn’t ok. She didn’t know when she’d ever be ok again. She’d give anything to be ok.

“Just trying to comprehend how everything started only a little over a week ago,” Tegan explained quietly. “I… I have to go to work tomorrow.”

“I do too.” Sara sighed, coming out onto the balcony with Tegan. “I honestly don’t know how I’m going to sell houses to people, considering, but… I don’t know how else to get back into everything.” Tegan leaned her head against Sara’s shoulder and felt an arm snake around to her own shoulder on the side of her that wasn’t touching Sara.

“I know how you feel.” Tegan murmured. “Like… What do we do next?”

“I don’t know,” Sara confessed. “I… I lost my wife. I had a wife.”

“I had a sister.” Tegan echoed. Both of them were still in disbelief that all of this had happened in so little time.

They weren’t really sure what to do with themselves for the rest of the day, so they got around to answering the ocean of condolence messages. They kept it short and simple. Tegan managed to converse with Lindsey via text, even though she doubted that their relationship was actually going to survive. Tegan didn’t want to break up with Lindsey on those grounds. Also because being single might make her feel like even more shit since she knew she’d cry over that, and then cry again over Emy’s death, and then Tegan would never run out of tears and be unable to stop crying.

Sara went out to get her mail, but Tegan followed her, practically clinging to Sara’s sleeve like a small child. Tegan read the condolence messages and then tossed them into the recycling. Meanwhile, Sara was dealing with legal stuff, the cats trying to help but unable to do a single useful thing… The resident felines couldn’t even make them smile.

Tegan wondered if she or Sara had it worse. First off, she was Emy’s little sister, and had known Emy all of her life. In fact, she’d been the one to give her sister the nickname. However, Sara had married Emy, and they hadn’t even been married for a full week. And it was under horrible circumstances. Tegan noticed that Sara had been wearing a chain with the ring Emy had wanted for Sara. It was a simple silver band with a small gem on it. The ring was the first nice one which they both would like that Sara could find. Because they hadn’t had a first dance together, Sara carefully sat on the hospital bed with Emy, gently holding her hand and sang to her. It had been painful for Emy to smile, but she’d looked the happiest anyone could look, and Tegan had silently cried as she witnessed this little wedding. Sara and Emy had deserved better.

She decided to stop that train of thought. Greif was not a competition, and she was just thankful that she and Sara had each other to understand. They had known Emy best and been the closest with her, so the two of them needed to be there for each other.

Mindlessly, Tegan checked her Instagram to move her thoughts onto something more frivolous and felt a slam to the gut as she saw that people were posting pictures of Emy or them with Emy, giving eulogies, saying ‘Rest in peace’ and saying that they were always thinking of Emy and her family. Tegan’s hand shook and her phone clattered to the floor, a picture of her dead sister smiling up at her. She slumped back against the couch, tears in her eyes.

“Tegan?” Sara asked, looking up from the kitchen table with concern, her hazel eyes looking dead.

“Social media,” Tegan managed as her answer. Sara grimaced, nodding.

“No matter how many thoughts or prayers people send your way, you do not have to be grateful or respond.” Sara explained. She looked pained. “I’m staying off of social media… I deleted any condolence emails or messages.”

“I’m going to have to stay off of Facebook, especially.” Tegan laid down on the couch in a fetal position. “The only thing that’s safe is Tumblr apparently. Nobody but you and Emy knew that I have a Tumblr account…”

“I get that people want to support us, but the thing is that I don’t want it.” Sara said, almost to herself. “I hate how people look at the people who have lost someone… I’m not someone that you should pity and try to do everything you can for… I… I just want to live my life.” Tegan looked up to see Sara gripping the edge of the table. She was sitting stiffly and her jaw was clenched. She looked like she probably felt on the inside. Tegan laid down on her back and stared at the ceiling, allowing Sara this bit of privacy to work through these feelings. She swept away tears that leaked out of her eyes, taking deep breaths to stop her crying.

Sure, Tegan could take time off to grieve, but what next? No matter how much time she took off, Emy would still be dead, and Tegan would still be thinking about her sister most of the time until she grew occupied enough to get her mind off of Emy. She might as well try to occupy herself as soon as possible so that she could stop being so upset. Sara had obviously done so in asking Tegan if she wanted to stay with her.

That night, they shared the double bed in the master bedroom, despite Tegan checking to make sure that Sara was sure that she was alright with this. Tegan was just drifting off to sleep when Sara slipped out of the bed and went into the bathroom. She heard the sound of Sara starting to cry, which turned into a storm of weeping. Tegan wanted to go to her, but decided against it. If Sara had waited until this time to cry, she most likely wanted to have privacy, despite not wanting to be alone in the house and bed. Tegan could understand that… Tegan and Emy didn’t quite resemble each other in an obvious way (especially since their eyes were different colors), but after the knowledge that they were sisters; people would begin to see it. This way, Sara wouldn’t be seeing into her dead wife’s face whenever she looked at Tegan, but she could have someone who would understand.

Eventually, Sara came back into the bed, turning and facing away from Tegan, who lay on her back, pretending to be in the gentle arms of slumber. The cats carefully settled around them, taking advantage of the space between them.

In the morning, they both awoke with crust in their eyes from the tears, but said nothing about it. Tegan heated some water for some tea, while Sara went to the Espresso machine. Tegan offered to make breakfast, and Sara replied that some breakfast would be lovely, patting Tegan on her back lightly. So Tegan made breakfast while Sara showered, though she didn’t check social media. She almost slipped, but decided to call her parents instead as she fed the cats and scooped the litter boxes. They were devastated, and asked Tegan to come see them, to which she agreed. She didn’t work until the late afternoon anyway. She asked them if they wanted any of Emy’s artwork. They declined, and Tegan let out a breath of relief. Nobody had been inside the art studio since Sara had retrieved the items and clothing that Emy was to be buried in. It would have been too much. That room was just so Emy. She had poured her soul into all of the works in there, and the room itself, turning it into the most amazing art studio that Tegan had ever seen. Naturally, nobody was ready to go in there yet, and those who would have been alright going inside didn’t deserve to do so because they would not have understood the room’s significance.

Tegan’s parents were barely hanging on, and she quickly realized that they too needed her and so she went to them. Her parents needed their other child and she was there for them as she moved around the house, cleaning. They had a lot of leftovers from the funeral when all the people had come over. Tegan felt slightly guilty about skipping that. She packed some leftovers up for Lindsey, since she and Sara had plenty of food from others.

She found herself going upstairs and placing a hand on the door to Emy’s old room. She didn’t yet open the door. It was a guest bedroom/utility room of sorts, along with Tegan’s. She knew what the room looked like; she could remember all of the personal touches of paint Emy had added; all of the flaws and masterpieces that had been added over the years, though Emy had not added any since she’d moved out for good.

Exhaling, Tegan turned away and dragged her heavy heart to her car, and kept herself from crying while the taxi driver took her to Lindsey’s apartment. She quickly slipped inside and placed the leftovers inside the refrigerator. Tegan left a note for her girlfriend before taking her bike and helmet and going to Sara’s apartment. She quickly changed before leaving for work.

She was exhausted emotionally, but still served people with a smile on her face. Her coworkers quietly whispered their condolences with gentle hands on her shoulder. Her boss even came to remind her that she could have some time off if she needed it.

Tegan prided herself in not crying until she got into the shower. However, the next several days, she and Sara would reserve their tears for certain times of days when the other would not interrupt. It was unspoken that they each knew what was happening during those times, but they looked the other way. Other people might have intervened and tried to provide comfort, but these were the times when they were able to let their grief off of their chests, and it felt good, which was fruitful discovery. It was like taking off a bra and uncomfortable shoes after a long day; like wiping off makeup upon getting home. Tegan always felt pleasantly tired after crying, her sadness eased slightly. She assumed that when Sara finished crying at night, she finally felt light enough to sleep.

During these difficult weeks, Tegan did everything she could to be what her loved ones needed at this time. Her parents needed to have their only living child; to see her, hear her, and hold her close. Lindsey needed to talk to her too; to maintain their relationship, even though they both knew that it would not last. Neither of them really wanted to break up, but Tegan’s world had changed so suddenly and drastically that she wasn’t sure if she could even stay friends with certain people, let alone stay with her girlfriend. It wasn’t any of their faults, but Tegan knew that sometimes relationships ended when people grew and changed past a certain point in such a short time. She was making peace with this fact, as well as so many others that she had learned.

She recalled the moment where her life had taken this turn. Tegan and Lindsey had gone out on a date together and then come back to their apartment to have sex. During their afterglow, Tegan’s phone had begun vibrating. It was somewhat late, but not too late for Emy’s favorite art supply store to close yet.

Lindsey had told Tegan to ignore it, but she’d picked up her phone to see who was calling. Upon seeing that it was Sara, she’d felt her gut drop and answered it immediately. Sara didn’t call her unless it was important.

“Tegan!” Sara had cried out in relief, her voice trembling and sounding like she was about to cry, though she was actually crying when she made the call. “Emy’s hurt!”

“What?” Tegan had torn herself out of Lindsey’s arms and darted to her dresser to find some clean clothes and begun to put on any random articles of clothing one-handed. “Sara, what happened? Is she ok?!”

“Emy ran out of some paint and because she was planning on working on her art tonight, she went to get it and some other art supplies so that she wouldn’t have to make multiple trips… She was on the way and a car hit her car… I’m in the emergency room.” Sara had replied quickly, tripping over her words frantically. “I’m not family, so I need you. And… I don’t want to be alone.” At that last sentence, Sara’s voice had broken. Tegan was numb.

“I’m on my way.” She had promised. Tegan hung up, shoving the phone into the pocket of her jeans. She got an Uber over to the hospital, and ran inside. Lindsey had been asking what was happening the entire time, so Tegan simply rattled off the fact that Emy was in a car accident and was in the ER, and Sara had been the one to call.

Once she thought about it, Tegan realized that the kinship that she and Sara had formed due to this profound loss began the second she had picked up the phone when she saw that Sara was calling. Or perhaps it had begun when Tegan raced into the ER and found Sara, going to the desk to get the news on Emy. It was a rough night full of tears and anxiety. She had fallen asleep with her head on Sara’s shoulder and was awakened when they were finally able to see Emy.

Tegan and Sara had barely left Emy’s bedside while she was in the hospital. Sometimes others came in and wanted to visit, so they would sometimes leave for one reason or another. They also had to sleep. From the beginning, they had known that Emy’s days were few, so the second day was when Sara and Emy got married. Only a couple of days later, they got the call that Emy had died. Tegan refused to be told what happened, and instead refused to get out of bed until Sara came to her and Lindsey’s apartment to tell her what Emy wanted. Tegan had noted that all the light had left Sara’s eyes. When they were in the hospital, she hadn’t looked like she’d never be happy again; there had been a sense of Sara bracing herself for a long uphill battle. And once Emy was gone, so was that fight in Sara’s eyes.

Once she saw this in her sister’s widow, Tegan had recognized the fact that when she, herself, looked into the mirror she saw herself looking dead and trying her hardest not to cry. She even walked with her head bowed so that she could have the illusion of a scrap of privacy in public. She shied away from pictures as not to let this be documented. She wouldn’t easily forget this difficult time, and she needn’t ruin anyone’s picture by trying desperately to force a smile.

Apparently a lot of drunken people on vacation liked to take pictures with servers, and Tegan had to politely decline each time. People would ask her all sorts of inappropriate questions, so Tegan would have to distract them from her. It wasn’t anyone’s business that her sister had died, even if it was the thing echoing through her every day.

She and Sara had grown more comfortable with sharing a bed. They didn’t turn away from each other or move to the opposite edges anymore. Tegan had simply decided that she was fine with being in close proximity with the one person who understood how she felt. Sure, they didn’t talk about their feelings, but the wounds were still fresh, even though it had already been over a month, and they were still working on simply functioning. Sara had said something about talking about it with her therapist, but she backtracked and muttered something about how she couldn’t even talk about her feelings with the cats; how could she ever voice them to another human?

Tegan understood that Sara practiced for her therapy sessions by talking to the three cats when Sara was home alone with them.

Tegan had been slowly moving completely into the apartment she and Sara were now sharing. Tegan and Lindsey were growing more and more distant from one another, though Emy’s grave remained well kempt and Tegan brought flowers to her sister once a week. Sara went twice a week; apparently going whenever she left her therapy sessions early.

When three months had gone by, Tegan went to her apartment to get the last of her things. She and Sara had decided who would get which articles of Emy’s clothing. Some things in Emy’s closet actually belonged to Tegan, which made them able to laugh, though it was a very strange feeling that usually only arose when the cats acted wacky. Tegan hugged Sara when their laughter made their eyes grow a bit damp. Both of them relaxed into the hug, having shied away from intentional physical contact for the past several weeks, much less physical contact that involved them being enveloped in another’s arms.

“Sara… when we finish sorting this out… Maybe we should talk about her.” Tegan suggested; her voice scratchy.

“I don’t know if I can without crying.” Sara replied, the bare honesty in that statement a significant step. Her voice was weary; something to be expected from their situation.

“I definitely won’t… But personally, I need to finally talk about it.” Tegan replied.

True to their words, they sat on the bed together, a box of tissues in between them, with more under Sara’s bedside table.

“When Emy and I were younger, we’d go to school together on the bus, and she’d hold my hand as we got on and off the bus because until I was ten years old, I was afraid of stepping on and off.” Tegan started out. “She stopped when she became a teenager, but once we were adults, she started holding my hand again when we got on and off buses for nostalgia.”

“I never knew that.” Sara murmured. “There are so many things I don’t know about her… I thought we’d… We should have been able to grow old together.” She swallowed. Tegan nodded grimly.

“I… It should have been me. I should have been the one to die.” Tegan decided. “That way you’d still have her. She’d be going somewhere with her art. You’d be able to propose to her for real.”

“What?! No!” Sara protested, looking up, her eyes wide with horror. “Tegan, no! Emy wouldn’t have been able to handle losing you. She loved you so much… Her heart was too good to be able to handle losing her baby sister.” She stared into the bedspread as though it was the key to escaping this grief.

“Emy could have done so much…” Tegan shook her head. “She had so much going for her. I barely even have a girlfriend, and I’m just a stupid bartender. It should have been me.”

“I’m not just going to let you say that.” Sara stared at her with sad eyes. “Tegan… You meant the world to Emy, and you’re important to me too. You get it. I’m sorry if I’ve been making you think this way. I shouldn’t have let myself get like this when I knew that you were going to be staying…” Sara sighed, her shoulders drooping.

“No, Sara. Don’t blame yourself.” Tegan pleaded. “It’s not your fault.”

“I made you feel like you should have lost your life. That’s not okay.” Sara replied simply. She hesitated before going on. “I… I should have prepared myself for Emy dying. Emy told me herself that she wasn’t coming home, and that’s why she wanted to marry me. I shouldn’t have foolishly clung to the tiny sliver of hope that she would be able to fight through it, because it harmed you. When Emy first brought me to meet your family years ago, she told me about the ex who wrinkled her nose at you and treated you like you were stupid, and warned me that if I did that, I was gone. She made it clear from the beginning that you matter to her more than anyone else. I’ve been trying to look after you because she asked me to. Emy made me promise… But I failed…” Sara carefully reached out, brushing Tegan’s hair out of her face. Sara had tears in her eyes. Carefully, she batted the tissue box out of the way, pulling Tegan into a hug. “I promise, to both you and Emy, that I’m going to be better from now on.”

“You don’t have to be Emy for me.” Tegan assured her. “Just be you, Sara. We’ll take care of each other.”

“Deal,” Sara murmured.

They fell asleep on the couch together, a blanket draped over their lower halves, as they had watched a simple sitcom together, passing a giant mixing bowl full of chips back and forth, Sara having put on her glasses. She looked older but not as tired as the day previously. Tegan decided that it was time to break up with Lindsey when she awoke the next morning. Tegan met Lindsey for coffee, and the two of them had a short but simple discussion about how it hadn’t been working out for a while.

Sara began inviting Tegan to come to her therapy sessions, and being able to discuss everything together made it easier for them to be close. Yes, it still took a toll on Tegan to go see her parents and be there for them, but she didn’t always have to do it alone.

One night, they laid in bed together on their phones, petting the cats, when a question popped into Tegan’s head that had whispered at her for a while, but she’d been unable to voice it.

“Where do you think Emy is now?” Tegan asked.

“Normally, I’d say that I’m an atheist, but I don’t want to think of Emy as gone forever.” Sara answered after a pause. “If we’re talking heaven, then she’d be there.”

“Me too…” Tegan trailed off, staring off into space thoughtfully. “But I think she’s moved onto another life, since that’s Christianity and not really what either of us thinks of.”

“Wherever I envision her, I want her to be happy and in a good place.” Sara said softly. “She deserved the world.” Tegan reached out and took Sara’s hand. They looked at each other and smiled.

“Emy deserved everything.” She agreed.

When Emy’s birthday arrived, Tegan bought a cake for her late sister, and she and Sara decorated it with tubes of icing, making a mess but having a fun time, knowing that Emy would have loved this activity. Tegan’s birthday arrived, and they didn’t do a whole lot, but inside one gift was Emy’s scrapbook of their childhood, and Tegan teared up, smiling at Sara.

Eventually, it came time for them to enter Emy’s art studio. Because she hadn’t been technically allowed to paint the walls, Emy had tacked up paper so that she could paint the ‘walls’ of her studio however so she pleased. The floor was covered in fabric. There were canvases stacked in every corner, canvases leaning against every wall. Emy’s paints were set up in her own special way of organizing them, which included setting it up in a sort of rainbow formation. She’d been buried in the clothes she wore to paint in, but the bandana she’d used to tie her hair back had been left in the studio. It was covered in doodles, along with all of the rest of Emy’s art stuff. Sara’s chair and table were untouched. Because Emy was a one project at a time person, there was only one unfinished painting on an easel. The paints were all closed up. The painting itself depicted Emy’s handprints in different colors. Tegan knew that she probably shouldn’t have, but she traced her fingers against her sister’s handprints. She looked through the paintings, recognizing some, but not others. The desk was very different. It was a complete disaster, but full of ideas, and it was just so Emy. Both Sara and Tegan broke down crying inside of the studio.

It was difficult to go through Emy’s paintings and decide which ones to keep and which ones to sell. It helped that a lot of family wanted Emy’s paintings. The incomplete one was one that Sara framed and put in the bedroom. The walls had lots of framed paintings already, but they grew cluttered as neither Tegan nor Sara could bear to part with very much of Emy’s art. Sara knew that Emy loved to be able to sell her art for money as it meant that her dream was coming true, however Sara knew that Emy’s paintings were now a limited number, and money meant little to her compared to that. Some of Emy’s were experimental and had just been to practice certain techniques, so Sara was more comfortable selling those, as opposed to ones done with love and devotion, like Sara’s bookshelf with the cats perched on it.

Tegan, surprisingly, was the one to help Sara to be able to choose which ones to keep and which ones to sell in a gallery. She had watched Emy’s art evolve from since she could remember, so she knew what it looked like when Emy was just experimenting, when she just wanted to paint something for the heck of it, or was actually inspired.

Emy’s final gallery was a success that left both Sara and Tegan feeling empty. It felt like Emy’s funeral that was over six months overdue (since the person organizing it had decided to theme it as such with black formal attire being on the flyer), but this time they could take it. They didn’t particularly want to socialize, but answered questions about the artwork as they were presented.

After it was over, it felt like a long sigh at the end of the day as Tegan reached for Sara’s hand. The two of them left together in a cab and made it back to their apartment feeling similarly to a pair of balloons that had been deflated over the course of several days as the helium wore off.

They collapsed on the couch together and began watching some stupid sitcom that used the laugh track way too many times, heads resting against each other’s. They kept stealing glances at each other periodically, but then they caught each other’s gaze, and even in the dim light coming mainly from the TV, they both realized what was happening and that it was actually mutual. Neither of them wanted to be the one to complete the action, because they felt shame deep in their guts. This felt like betrayal to the one they had been mourning.

Emy’s face, her smile, and her laugh danced in their minds as Sara and Tegan stared at each other’s faces, longing to have just one kiss at the most, or so they told themselves. Neither of them had felt any touch more than a hug since Emy passed away. Somewhere along their journey, they had grown a sort of affection where the other’s presence felt like home. They could laugh and smile together.

The moment was heavy, and did not pass. Tegan felt like she was betraying Emy for wanting to kiss her sister’s lover. Sara felt like she was betraying Emy for wanting to kiss her lover’s sister.

Their eyes were locked to each other in this want, and as Tegan swallowed, looking as though she wanted Sara’s lips more than anything, Sara threw her guilt to the side and carefully leaned in and kissed Tegan. This reminded them of all of the moments of awkwardness when Emy first brought Sara home, and Tegan was still a teenager at nineteen years old. With wide eyes she had watched Sara, who was twenty-two at the time. Tegan had a crush, but knew better than to hurt Emy. And Sara had been intrigued by the youngest Storey daughter, but they had set their feelings aside and grown a happy and healthy platonic relationship. But now all that they had carefully cleaned up and put away came rushing back to them and they only broke apart when they ran out of breath.

“What does this mean for us?” Tegan whispered.

“I don’t know.” Sara replied honestly.

That night in the bed, they each lay on their side, turned away from the other. They weren’t very far apart, but they did not touch in their sleep; guilt turning to shame.

“Emy would have wanted us to be happy.” Tegan muttered the next morning. “She might not have loved the idea of us together, but it’s not like we’re doing it to hurt her, or ever went behind her back. We came together because we miss her.” Sara looked up from her newspaper and untouched coffee mug.

“In my life, the one thing that has been the most important to me is finding a companion.” Sara replied calmly and rather quietly. “I didn’t care what kind of love it was… In the system, I didn’t really get to find love. And then I met Emy at school. From her, I learned to have career ambitions and what love is. Emy made me who I am. And then there’s you.” Tegan wasn’t sure what to take from that last sentence, though Sara was looking at her with fondness. “We’re more alike than I think people realize.”

“We both loved Emy… She shaped us and gave us love that helped us to learn what love is…” Tegan offered. “Neither of us really know what we love to do, and we’re still figuring it out…”

“Why don’t we figure it out together?” Sara offered. “Why don’t you and I become a we?”

Smiling brightly for the first time in who knew how long, Tegan nodded, and their hands joined.

After many cycles of seasons went by, they each carried a bouquet of flowers and placed it at Emy’s gravestone. As a play on her surname, it was an open book. On the right-hand page was Emy’s full name, date of birth and the date she died along with ‘Beloved daughter, sister, friend, and wife.’

The poem on the left had been picked out by Sara, and read:

_Do not stand at my grave and weep_

_I am not there. I do not sleep._

_I am a thousand winds that blow._

_I am the diamond glints on snow._

_I am the sunlight on ripened grain._

_I am the gentle autumn rain._

_When you awaken in the morning's hush_

_I am the swift uplifting rush_

_Of quiet birds in circled flight._

_I am the soft stars that shine at night._

_Do not stand at my grave and cry;_

_I am not there. I did not die._

_-Mary Elizabeth Frye_

The two women stared at the gravestone of the person that they both still missed with everything inside of them. The pain had faded considerably. Tegan looked down at her left hand where the ring lay on her finger. She couldn’t help but smile faintly at how she had come to have it on the finger where she did. Sara had offered a handkerchief (the very same one that had been provided by Sara at the funeral years ago) when Tegan sneezed, and Tegan had felt something hard inside and found the ring. A question had been asked by Sara, and yes was Tegan’s response.

They had come to pay respects yet again. It was a sort of superstition for them. But now they felt at peace at this grave. The air was cold, but they felt like everything was going to be alright. Tegan turned to Sara and softly kissed her, arms snaking around her and she felt her girlfriend pulling their bodies closer together. They were at peace.


End file.
